June 28, 2000
For one reason or another, I have been classified as a baseball fanatic. I am unclear what the reason is for this distinction but I have decided that if I am to be one, I should at least try to be the best possible fanatic I can. The first order of business is to try and define what exactly a fanatic is. I have interviewed several people at the ballpark in order to determine what the correct definition would be. What I have found is that there is little common ground between what constitutes a fanatic. What is most interesting is that each of the people I interviewed viewed me as a fanatic while they themselves were not. The mentally deficient dude with the megaphone and Diamondbacks shoelaces was not a fanatic. The husband and wife with matching Randy Johnson jerseys and a Diamondbacks helmet that held two beer cans with straws were not fanatics. The overweight guy with the garbage bag of “K” signs that he runs to the top of the section for each Randy Johnson strike out was not a fanatic. The two girls wearing the “Ice Girls” T-shirts with the sign proclaiming Matt Mantei a Hottie were not fanatics. I took the next several innings to determine what behavior was necessary to be classified as a fanatic. By the end of the game, I had determined that a baseball fanatic was someone who could tell the umpire had missed a called ball or strike from the upper deck outfield stands and yet could not find his car in the parking lot.